


Secretly Softhearted

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Cigarette mention, Cigarettes, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Other, alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:54:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23498599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Crowley is *not* soft. ...That is, unless he's within a ten-foot radius of a certain principality.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 44
Collections: Soft Smut Sunday





	Secretly Softhearted

**Author's Note:**

> Be nice, I was really busy (and lazy) through the week so I wrote this in two days. No, I did not proofread it. If there are mistakes in this, that’s none of my business.

Anthony J. Crowley was not a gentle person.

Anyone that had known him for very long knew this about him and knew that he often couldn’t help it. He was not good at being careful, nor patient, nor tender. It was not in his nature. Not because he was a demon, no. Maybe sometimes it was because he had a _reputation_ to keep as one, but not because of actually being one. He just wasn’t great at keeping a filter for his words or his actions, and his way of being friendly could come off as rough or blunt or rude at times.

With his plants, he growled and yelled and threatened them into being beautiful. ‘For their own good,’ he’d often said. ‘Because he loved them,’ he said. Rarely did he say anything so soft in front of them, of course, because they needed their fear to reach their best performance, but Aziraphale had seen him have his moments with them. He’d seen little kisses be placed to healthy, green leaves in praise, and he knew for a fact that no harm ever actually came to any of them. Garbage disposal? Please. Weak plants were taken away to be re-potted or treated before they were snuck back in as a ‘new’ plant a couple weeks later when they were strong enough to join the others again.

And then there was Crowley when he’d been drinking, which was a whole other ordeal. He often liked to have a glass or five of one of the many bottles of wine he kept in his bookshop. It was a sort of collection by now, gifts he’d been given and varieties he wanted to keep, nearly organized where they could be enjoyed over and over again. And Crowley, he liked to visit so he could drink them over and over again right along with. When he did, he was even more prone to arguing over trivial things than usual, and when he went out to pubs, he was often starting and then snaking his way out of fights. Often Aziraphale saw him after these encounters because he was the one who had to hear him rant about how it totally ‘wasn’t his fault’ while tending to scrapes or bruises.

But Crowley behind the wheel was one of the worst of all. He was impatient in an area where traffic was horrid, a combination that led to some… Chaotic situations. The demon wasn’t against shouting, using foul language, and making obscene gestures at those he felt were wasting his time or causing the most irritation. Goodness knows some of the things he might have gotten into had Aziraphale not been in the passenger side, and who knows what messes he caused when the angel was absent from the vehicle.

Even with all of this, Aziraphale never minded, because he cared for Crowley as he truly, honestly was. 

Anthony J. Crowley was not a gentle person, and that’s what made it so much more special when he took the time to try to be.

Zira had learned by this point that, even in his deepest brooding spells, he could coax Crowley into a much more appealing session of cuddling where they’d share blankets and lean on one another. He also noticed that it was nearly impossible for him to be stuck in a grouchy mood around Aziraphale, because just a handful of kisses feathered onto his cheeks is all it took to make him reluctantly smile and then get all embarrassed about it. And no matter how angry he became, no matter how irritated or impatient he was, he never went too far with Aziraphale. They argued, they fought, sure. But he never crossed the line with anything deeply hurtful, and he was never physical, not with him. He’d walk away before it got that far.

Even someone like Crowley had days and situations where he couldn’t help but soften. Sure, he’d pushed Aziraphale over the service counter in his shop just minutes ago, but only after he’d closed, locked up, and gotten the blinds drawn. And he certainly didn’t continue to handle him so roughly once they really started to get into it. No, the moment Aziraphale set about purring little compliments, beckoning the demon to continue, his knees turned to jelly. He may have started this and he may be on top, but that meant very little when his heart belonged to a certain principality.

All it took was a few well-placed, well-pitched moans and Crowley melted against him. It’s not even something Aziraphale had to try and do, really. Sometimes he did plan it, but more often than not, he stumbled into his weakness unintentionally and turned what was meant to be spontaneous and rough into something tender and slow. Neither of them ever wanted to shoulder the blame from it, either. How could Aziraphale be held accountable for the soft spot Crowley kept for him, and how could Crowley be held accountable for the way Aziraphale made him feel? They always came to a draw on who should be faulted.

“Mm?” Aziraphale lifted his head from where his cheek lay against the desk, looking to Crowley to see why he’d pulled back. “Everything alright?”

All he got in response was a little gesture. The demon tipped his head back and to the side, motioning further into the shop where there were cozy chairs and sofas that would be more preferable after the shift in mood. He smiled a bit and stood up straight from the counter, leaving his pants where they lay on the floor there to follow after Crowley.

“Where are we headed?” He asked, hanging onto his lover’s arm despite the fact that it would be a rather short walk wherever he was being taken. “The loveseat with the throw or the pillows?”

“The throw, that’s my favorite.”

Aziraphale had already known the answer, he just wanted to hear it murmured from Crowley’s lips while he, distracted by his arousal, maneuvered them through the shop. He always adored how his voice got, the way it lowered into a sort of purr.

Now part of him expected to be pushed down onto the couch in a way that allowed Crowley to squish his face down into the cushion, but the other part of him wasn’t surprised when caring hands pulled him in to work off the rest of his clothes off his upper half. Just to be a nuisance and a distraction, Aziraphale leaned in to trail kisses from the demon’s cheek on down to his neck. He couldn’t keep from breaking into giggles when he got a little huff and nudge in response to it.

“‘S hard enough to get these damned buttons open as is, let alone with you giving me lip brands while I’m trying to do it,” he muttered, but his words were all painted over with an affectionate tone; it immediately gave away the fact that Aziraphale could likely get away with whatever he wanted to do right now.

“You like them, I know you do. You complain now, but you’ll be showing them off tomorrow.” With the last of Aziraphale’s clothes shuffled off and dropped to the floor, Anthony pulled him into a kiss to try and wipe that grin off his face. Keyword: try. Results: failure. They tilted their heads to continue pressing little open-mouthed kisses to one another, tugging lips as they pulled back to place another. By the end of it, Crowley found that more of his own clothes had gone missing than he remembered—Aziraphale was getting too crafty with his hands.

His husband paused and took in the moment for a bit before he gave him an expectant little look, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at him.

“What?”

The response was a quick glance to the couch they stood next to and then back again. The angel picked up the hint by this point, but he couldn’t give in that easily. It was always so much fun to tease a little.

“I can’t read your mind, dear.” Crowley breathed a little scoff, but not the agitated sort; it was the kind sort of mingled with a whine.

“You can lay down now.” He couldn’t bring himself to put Zira on the couch, not with the shift in atmosphere. He was in no mood to be manhandling his angel.

“I could.”

Crowley’s shoulder’s dropped in defeat.

“Please?”

“Well, of course, why didn’t you say so sooner?” Chuckling, Aziraphale moved down and got comfortable, finding his heart terribly warmed by how quick Crowley was to follow and situate himself between his legs. He wrapped his arms around Crowley’s neck before he could think about putting any distance between them, twirling his fingers in the hair at the back of his neck. Maybe that was unfair, but it was a surefire way to settle his demon by turning his willpower into a puddle of mush.

“For an angel,” he murmured, “you always play so damn dirty.” He didn’t mean it; he couldn’t even muster the strength to put any force in his voice. He spoke to Aziraphale in hushed affection while he pressed back inside of him.

“For a demon,” Aziraphale began, legs snaking around his waist, lips moving to his ear, “you always fall apart so easily in my arms.” He finished off his whisper by pressing in against Crowley’s lower back and pushing him in the rest of the way, his hips now flush against the angel’s thighs. He did so in a manner that made Anthony forget how to breathe, and apparently, forget how to hold himself up, because he let his arms give from under him so he could lay down against Aziraphale.

_“Angel,”_ he gasped into the principality’s shoulder, lacking the impulse control to keep his hips from starting back up again. Though they didn’t move like they had before, at the counter. They rocked like a ship on calm waters, taking care to press in deep each time, savoring the way his lover felt not only squeezing his dick, but also squeezing on his waist every thrust without fail.

“I’ve got you,” Aziraphale cooed. “I’ve got you, darling, relax.” And he did, of course. Why would he ever want to refuse? He let his body go slack, laying his head beside his partner’s so that every little grunt, pant, and groan could be cherished by him. One hand remained in Crowley’s hair, but the other started to stroke his shoulders and his back while he kept at it. It made Aziraphale shiver to see him like this, hugging onto his angel while he mumbled little bits of nonsense and radiated with love.

They could do this time and time again and it would never be any less special. It would never be any less memorable. Each exchange between them was stored safely in his mind, for each exchange between them made his heart race and warm just the same as the last. Crowley usually got quite embarrassed if Aziraphale brought it up, but he adored the way his lover went all soft just after a few croons and kisses. All bite for anyone else, but quick to unravel into nothing but bark when it came to him. It was precious, and Aziraphale protected the trust he was given with everything that he had.

“Do you feel good? Does it feel good?” Crowley responded to the little mumbles with eager hums of approval rather than bothering to form words, and he could feel in the way his demon tensed and sharpened his ruts that he couldn’t last much longer. He had to be getting close, what with the way he was clinging to Aziraphale and pressing his nails in a bit. Holding back, he could tell that Anthony was holding back, because he hardly even felt it. Not like he did on other days, when Crowley wasn’t so quick to go tenderhearted.

Aziraphale leaned in to kiss at the shell of his ear, occasionally giving a loving tug, before he purred encouragement and granted Crowley the permission he could feel the demon was waiting for.

“You can let go, dear, I want you to get there, I want you to give it to me, you don’t have to hold it in anymore.” His words alone made Anthony burn up inside, his heart tripping over itself and his hand fumbling to take hold of Aziraphale’s cock to give it some well-needed attention as he stumbled to the edge.

And when he got there, there was no hesitation or struggle. He fell off the peak and dove headfirst into boiling pools of ecstasy, breath hitching when he felt Aziraphale pushing him in completely with his heels against Crowley’s lower back. It was beautiful, it was wonderful beyond description, and it took all the focus that he had left to muster to keep moving his hand. Azira saw him having a hard time with it and place his hand around Crowley’s, helping him with the strokes while he used his other hand to thread fingers through gorgeous red waves of hair.

“You’ve done so well, you’re so good,” he cooed. “I love you so much, Crowley, I love you with all that I am and mo—” His last words were carried off into a sharp moan, his hand squeezing tightly over Anthony’s as his hips became impossible to control. Once the wave passed and he quit jerking, he turned his head to his lover’s and kissed him before either of them could seize the opportunity to catch their breath. And they stayed like that, locked at the lips, for several minutes until they knew the time to separate was long overdue.

The two of them pulled apart and got up together, motivated by the desire to get clean and fetch a bottle of red to share. After about fifteen minutes, give or take, Crowley found himself cozied back on the same couch in one of Aziraphale’s sweaters with a glass of wine in his hand and a rather satisfied smile on his face. The blanket previously draped over the back of the loveseat was now across both of their laps, and Aziraphale had his head laid down on Crowley’s shoulder while his eyes devoured the pages of a book he’d likely read a thousand times before.

“Not as good as a cigarette,” he muttered into his wine as he took a sip, “but it’s damn good for what it is.”

“You know the rules, no smoking in the shop,” Aziraphale responded, glancing over to Crowley for just a moment while he turned the page. “You’ll brown the book pages. Most of them are too old and worn already to handle it.”

Crowley knew when he’d lost, and he also knew that he was too tired and comfortable to push it or leave to step outside.

“Mmh, fine.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of his angel’s head and nuzzled his hair a bit while he was there. Aziraphale’s lips cracked open into a wide smile and the chances of the shop opening tomorrow vanished completely.

Perhaps Anthony J. Crowley was more gentle than he let on.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this! This work is also available on Tumblr under the same url as my username here if you'd like to give it any love there or see other things I've posted that are necessarily AO3-worthy.


End file.
